


plus ça change

by lanyon



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 19:36:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13130625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: Ten years since the Rising, the more things change, the more they stay the same.





	plus ça change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Selden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selden/gifts).



_”You’re absolutely right, David. Roarton **was** the presumed epicentre for the global epidemic that was the Rising and now, a decade later, we can still see the scars in this Lancashire village. There are still sunken-in graves in the churchyard, side by side with gravestones, on which you can see **TWO** dates of death. A lot of these second deaths took place shortly after the Rising, before the killing of PDS-sufferers was reclassified as homicide.”_

.

Mourning is difficult in Roarton. It’s like the villagers are all mourned out. There probably isn’t enough black to go around. For a while, there were weekly visits to Marks and Spencer in Preston, to buy black dresses and suits and cardigans, for every funeral and memorial.

Sue thinks that the Burtons’ funeral was the worst, when the dust had settled. 

It’s there, in the parish register:  
**_10.30am:_** _Funeral service: Mr and Mrs Ken Burton, followed by interment (Mr Burton) and re-interment (Mrs Burton) in the churchyard._

Janet Macy was there and Sue remembers a ripple passing through the congregation, small though it was, about the front of Janet, even showing her face. The sermon was a bit heavy on forgiveness and Janet’s shoulders shook throughout. 

Sue blinks. “I’m sorry, dear. What was the question?”

The television executive, or researcher, or whoever she is, shuffles her papers on the kitchen table. “Well, it was just to do with the prominence of the churchward within the village - do you think the church has taken on a more significant role since the events of a decade ago?”

.

“Honestly, I feel like I’m in a David Attenborough documentary,” says Kieren. His heart beats now, sometimes, which is strange, and his eyes are nearly brown again. Simon says they’re hazel and his mum gets a little choked up because she says it’s like when he was a baby, and they couldn’t figure out what colour his eyes were going to be. 

“And now,” says Simon, trailing his fingers over Kieren’s shoulder, “We watch as the young man walks down the street of his home town, his gait as uneven as it is lovely, and his face brightens up as he gets closer to the small bungalow he calls home, shared with his very dashing boyfriend.”

“Dashing? Is that right?” Kieren grins and leans in to kiss Simon and their kisses haven’t been cold and flavourless for a few years now. Simon is sometimes even warmer than Kieren. 

They got underfloor heating put in, in Amy’s old house, and sometimes they lie down for an hour, shoulders touching, and they let the heat seep into their skin and bones so that they can go to bed and hold each other like real boys do. 

(It will always be Amy’s house, and Kieren still hopes that she’ll come home.)

“Very dashing,” says Simon. “You’re the lucky one.”

“I am,” says Kieren and Simon’s smile gets wider. 

.

“I sometimes think,” says Kieren, in the night. “I sometimes think we were brought back for each other.”

“Is that sacrilege?” asks Simon, sleepily. His voice is hoarse and cracked, like his vocal cords haven’t warmed up yet. It’s the same every morning, for both of them, a new resurrection every day. 

“Maybe,” says Kieren. 

“And why did everyone else come back, too?” asks Simon.

Kieren’s pretty relieved that Simon let go of his weird discipleship, not least because it means that Kieren is still alive, but he sometimes wonder if Simon misses it; having a purpose. Simon nestles closer. His fingertips are cold on Kieren’s cheek.

“Because it wouldn’t have been fair,” says Kieren, after a while. “It wouldn’t have been fair if we got a second chance and no one else did.”

“Do you ever wonder?” asks Simon. “Do you ever wonder why it happened?”

Kieren knows that Simon will never stop wondering and he’ll never stop looking for answers, even a decade later. The second bedroom in Amy’s house is Simon’s office and every day, Simon spends hours in there, reading and writing. He’s got a pretty popular blog, where he archives every single theory he’s encountered, even the really ridiculous ones, that make the Undead Prophet seem rational. 

“No,” says Kieren. “I guess … I guess I’m just glad it did happen. It was pretty horrible but it’s okay now, right?”

“Sure, it’s better than okay,” says Simon. 

.

 

“We could have met in Paris,” says Kieren. 

“What would I be doing in Paris?” asks Simon. 

“I don’t know,” says Kieren. “It would have been bloody romantic though, right?”

“You don’t think it was romantic anyway?” 

“Here?” asks Kieren, deeply sceptical. “In Roarton?”

“Absolutely. Our eyes met across my incredible jumper.”

“You do have nice jumpers,” says Kieren, tugging on Simon’s sleeve until Simon finally takes it off. “You know what I mean, though. We could have, you know. Had sex.”

“I think people can have sex in places other than Paris,” says Simon. He tugs Kieren into his arms. “I don’t really miss it, you know.” 

They don’t have sex, but they don’t not have sex either; about eight years ago, they discovered the delights of dirty talk. The spirit is able, though the flesh is entirely incapable, and Kieren’s gotten pretty good at telling Simon exactly what he would do. Whatever neurons are still firing, it’s a pretty pleasurable experience, even when Simon takes it to ridiculous levels. 

“Stop bloody laughing, Walker,” he says, and they’re both naked by the fireplace. 

“I’m sorry,” says Kieren, and he wonders if his eyes are dancing in the light of the fire, the way that Simon’s are. “It’s just, I don’t know how I’m supposed to take all this talk of your massive cock seriously when it’s _right there_.”

“Listen, sweetheart, death has not been kind, is all I’m saying, or I’d have you blushing like a young virgin.” 

Kieren’s in gales of laughter again and Simon reaches for him, and Kieren reaches back. He thinks this is how it’s always going to be. 

They haven’t changed much, not really. Between them, they’ve probably experienced about a dozen heartbeats, and they’re coming back to life so slowly that it may be decades before they start aging again, and centuries before they start dying.

Kieren likes to think that he and Simon would have found each other, in any circumstances. If dying didn’t keep them from meeting each other, he’s sure that they would have met. 

Maybe this is what soulmates is.

Maybe, Kieren will breathe again, the way Simon sometimes does.

**Author's Note:**

> Very happy Yuletide to you, Selden! I hope you have a great holiday season


End file.
